Seven Drops of Water
by CrossoverQueen
Summary: It's been many years and many memories, but he will always remember the moments he fell in love with the sea. Pre-movie.
1. I dreamed a dream the other night

**I.**  
Fujimoto was born in a town near Nagoya, right at the place where the river meets the sea. It is a rare person who doesn't know how to swim, and he and his siblings grew up with boat races and fishing nets scattered throughout their memories. The sea weaves its scent and sound through them, lulling them to sleep with the nighttime tides and waking them up with gulls' calls.

The townfolk consider the sea an indelible part of life, except for the occasional restless one every generation or two. They travel along the shore on the way to school or to visit friends, plunge into the depths for fun, and sail it in boats to fish; they are one of countless towns who have completely adjusted to the ocean. Most are accustomed to its moods, knowing when to sail and when to stay home. Some are even quite comfortable with it--but there are few people who truly _love_ the sea, and Fujimoto is such a person.

He is fifteen when a bad storm hits. Everyone secures themselves at home (with his family among them of course), but he goes out to the beach on pretense of making sure the boats haven't been too damaged or completely washed away. In reality he wants to see what this particular storm has that the others didn't, so after a cursory glance at the dock, he makes his way down to the beach.

The breakers leave scars on the sand, with the seafoam deathly white against the night-dark sea. Every crash of the waves whips saltwater into his face; he needs to screw his eyes almost shut to keep from getting blinded every few seconds. Through it all the wind rages like a furious woman (for they share many things in common), and it is all he can do to remain standing in her wake.

The sight of the churning waves is burned into his memory--and he knows, right then, that nothing could ever compare.


	2. I dreamed I saw my own true love

**II.**

When Fujimoto is eighteen and impulsive, he rises to an implicit dare from his sister that nobody could dive fifty feet without running out of air. Being her sibling, he interprets "nobody" as "you" and promptly heads out to ensure his success--the tide went out early, so it takes more time than usual to get to the specific depth. Once the bottom becomes a nondescript darkness and the tide calms down to a gentle tug at his clothes, he guesses that he's out far enough and takes a deep breath.

Before he can even submerge, a riptide catches him off-guard. It bowls him sideways into a floating web of seaweed, and his panicked attempts to swim back to shore only serve to tangle him into the rope-like fronds.

_Sideways,_ he recalls as he quickly gets nowhere: He mistakes the kelp wound about his limbs for the pull of the riptide, which is understandable because he's just a little confused and the shore has become a thick yellow smudge with dark blotches moving on it. _You swim sideways until you're out of the current!_

Predictably, it doesn't work. He is still getting nowhere, and he doesn't see anyone else this far out; his sister has gone to get help on the shore. Fujimoto is a good swimmer, but being dragged so far out isn't the best for staying calm. He hasn't planned on swimming like his life depended on it--the main point was to dive fifty feet and come back up with air to spare, then head back to shore at a nice, slow pace.

And why is it still so hard to _move?_

_Okay,_ he gets a grip on himself and treads water as well as possible, trying to unknot the kelp as he does. _Okay--I can get back to shore in about ten minutes. Just get the kelp off and don't panic._

But it's easier said than done.

There's nobody to help with the convoluted detangling process or support his weight while he does, and floating is out of the question with his leg caught near the lowest part; the mess of kelp is at least half his size and once it breaks the surface, the increased weight forces him back to treading water. His eyes are stinging from seawater and it's getting harder to keep his head above the surface. He flounders more than he treads water now, with every watery inhale clogging his lungs as he coughs out more than he takes in.

He wishes he was still too stunned to do anything, because the distance between him and the shore is getting bigger in the slow and inexorable way that means help won't get to him before he drowns. When he takes another breath, he doesn't notice he's as good as submerged or that his vision is filled with the twilight shades of the sea.

Then the kelp falls away as he sinks, with its tangles broken by unfamiliar hands. They would not look out of place on a noblewoman, delicately structured and wrapped in glowing white sleeves. Suddenly he's above water again, with bright eyes staring into his own as amaranth hair billows around him. She breathes on his chest, and the burning in his lungs subsides as a crested wave bears him calmly and gracefully back to shore.

It's all a bit of a blur once he's deposited onto the dry portion of the beach--his sister is terrified and there's an awful lot of running around him--but through it all he stands up with the woman's help, coughing out the water in a flurry of chest spasms, and her dry red hair floats around him like a cocoon.

She's smiling at him, and he thinks he might be in love.


End file.
